Hannah Abbott and the Traitor of Dynasty
by Red Leather
Summary: Hannah Abbott thinks she is a perfectly ordinary eleven year old girl until a mysterious letter arrives from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She could never have imagined that her sensible, hard-working mother grew up as a witch! Now, can Hannah summon the bravery it takes to stand up as a member of the esteemed pure-blood Abbott family?
1. Chapter 1

Hannah Abbott, of Flat 48, Bucknell House, Peckham, was, to all outward appearances, a perfectly ordinary eleven year old girl. She had perfectly ordinary dark blonde hair and grey eyes, although she did look somewhat incongruous amongst the Bangladeshi children on the estate that she played with during her summer holidays. Hannah had a permanent look of anxiety on her face — whenever people asked her what she was worried about, Hannah would blink for a second before saying "I'm not sure."

Hannah Abbott was unsure about a lot of things in her life. At eleven years old, she had finished her primary education and should be heading towards some sort of secondary school at the end of Summer, although her mother hadn't yet informed her where that would be. Hannah presumed it would be the local high school, however whenever she tried to ask her mother at dinner, Grace Abbott would frown, say "Let's talk about it later," and go on to ask about what Hannah had done that day while she was at work.

Hannah was also unsure about her family — all that she ever knew was that her father worked in the legal system, like her mother, and had left Grace Abbott before she'd known she was pregnant with Hannah. There were no pictures of him, but Hannah figured that he would be tall and blonde, like her, and his freckly cheeks would also go pink when he was happy or embarrassed. Hannah didn't know her extended family either — her mother had told her that they weren't worth knowing, so Hannah left it at that. She was happy enough with her adopted extended family, the families of the refugees that her mother helped move to London. Hannah was very proud of her mother's job, even if it meant she left for work very early every morning and arrived home late each night.

Another thing Hannah Abbott was unsure about was why sometimes, when she was particularly worried about something, she could make strange things happen.

When she was younger, Hannah had planted some seeds for a school assignment and forgotten to water them for a week. The night before it was due, she'd given the still bare pot a good soaking and hoped very hard for her seedlings to sprout, and in the morning she woke to find a flourishing marigold plant with flowers in impossible shades of purple and blue. (Hannah still kept two of the marigold flowers, pressed neatly between the pages of Alice in Wonderland.)

There was the time last month when her teacher had decided to spring a maths test on the class, and Hannah had been so close to crying, wishing anything would happen to prevent it, when the sprinklers in the ceiling came on with a burst of dusty-smelling water. The whole school was forced out into the quadrangle for the rest of the afternoon to dry themselves out in the sun, whilst the fire brigade hunted all over for the source of the false alarm.

Only a week ago, Hannah had been to the movies by herself and missed the bus home. After sighing and shutting her eyes, she opened them to find she'd somehow arrived at the entrance to her estate block.

Perhaps most curious event had been the time when a thunderstorm hit suddenly one night, while Hannah had been reading in bed with her window open. The cool change made the curtains billow, and the first deep rumble of thunder caused her to draw her covers very tightly around herself. She peered out from her bedclothes, too scared to head to the window to close it, when the sash dropped shut by itself, followed in quick succession by the blinds flicking closed and the curtains pulling themselves together over the lot. It could have been the wind, Hannah supposed, until a sharp crack of thunder nearby caused her to squeal and the lights to wink out. She'd dived entirely under her covers. Hannah's hands clasped tightly together in front of her, and she didn't notice straight away when a soft glow appeared between the gaps of her interlaced fingers, as if she were holding on to a small pen light. Hannah opened her hands slowly to find a tiny, perfect ball of yellow light hovering gently above her palms. Carefully, she transferred the orb into an empty glass on her bedside table, and watched it silently until she fell asleep. When she woke up in the morning, the little light was gone. It didn't feel like it had been a dream.

Hannah didn't know how any of these things could have happened, and she was too worried to tell her mother about them. Grace Abbott had enough to deal with at work, and Hannah wasn't sure what her mother would say if she said she'd made… well, what even was it? …Magic?

It was on a hot day in July that something else happened. Hannah was alone in the flat, wondering if she should stay inside and read, or brave the heat to visit Samreen and Mehedi (their mother made the most delicious mint iced tea), when she heard the clink and swish of mail being delivered through the letter slot in the front door.

Hannah heaved herself up from the sofa. There were three things laying on the doormat — two long envelopes that looked like bills, and — she grinned — a letter for Hannah.

Laying the other two on the coffee table, Hannah sat down and tried to tear into the thick envelope, but couldn't find a gap in the folds to do so. She held the letter up close and studied it carefully. There was no mistaking the address, hand-written beautifully in green ink:

Miss H. Abbott  
The Sunny Bedroom  
Flat 48  
Bucknell House  
Peckham

There was a seal on the back done in purple wax with a coat of arms, but no return address. Hannah tried to tear an edge of the envelope, but if anything it seemed to make the paper feel tougher.

It's a joke letter, Hannah thought, which made her even more determined to open it. She rummaged in the kitchen for the largest pair of scissors, and made to snip very carefully along one edge of the envelope, but for some reason the paper just seemed to slide from between the blades whenever the scissors closed.

Hannah let out a huff, and thought for a moment before taking the gas lighter from beside the stove. If she was very careful, she could singe an edge open, and tear it from there — but the paper wouldn't burn. It didn't even smoke, or melt, or anything of the sort. What on earth was it made of?

Hannah returned the scissors and lighter to their places and sat back down on the sofa, staring at her mystery letter. She'd read in stories of people steaming letters to loosen the glue, perhaps it was worth giving that a try to melt the wax.

Two hours and seven different methods later (each perhaps a little more dangerous and destructive than the last), Hannah allowed herself a grunt of frustration. The letter was curled in her hand, unopened, mocking her in its perfection.

"Fine," she said to the letter. "If that's what you want."

She slapped the envelope onto her bedside table and went to visit her friends.

That evening, after dinner, Hannah had stepped into her room to collect the book she'd been reading when she noticed the letter. She sighed at it, shook her head, and took it out to the living room.

"You should see this, Mum, it's the strangest thing." Hannah held the letter up between her thumb and forefinger, rolling her eyes. "Someone sent me-" she stopped when she saw her mother's face. The look in Grace Abbott's eyes seemed nothing less than terror. She didn't speak.

"What's wrong?" Hannah's grasp on the envelope loosened, and it dropped to the floor. Grace's face crumpled.

"I hoped... Oh, Hannah, I'd really hoped," she said, her voice slightly choked, "that you wouldn't get one of those."


	2. Chapter 2

"It's okay," Hannah said quietly, picking up the letter. "I can't even open it." She moved closer to her mother, who'd shut her eyes briefly. "Look, it's..." She trailed off as her finger poked between the folds of the paper and the seal broke easily.

Hannah and her mother exchanged looks - Hannah's confused, Grace's sad.

"Honey," Grace said softly, and Hannah couldn't remember the last time she'd been addressed like that, "come here and sit with me. I think we need to open this together."

Hannah settled on to the sofa beside her mum. She slid the letter from the envelope - two sheets of thick cream-coloured paper, folded precisely and lettered in the same green ink.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE  
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Miss Abbott,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.  
Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress

Hannah didn't know what to say. She looked at her mother, who seemed to have settled down and was regarding her daughter with the smallest of sad smiles.

"You're a witch, Hannah," Grace said. "Just like me."

Hannah blinked. "But you're a legal secretary."

Grace shook her head. "I went to Hogwarts when I was your age."

"I don't understand," Hannah said.

"I grew up as a witch, Hannah. Magic wands, broomsticks - everything you can think of. It's all real, it's all hidden away. I thought I could leave it behind, and I had, for… oh, nearly eighteen years." It was as if a dam had burst, and words were gushing forth.

Hannah's heart felt strangely light. "You can do magic?"

Grace bit at her bottom lip. "I can." She stood up. "Here. Let me show you."

At the foot of Grace's bed sat an old wooden trunk, emblazoned with her initials. Hannah had never asked about it, but she had tried to open it on the odd occasion, only to find that the lid was firmly stuck shut.  
Grace opened a drawer in the small desk she kept in her bedroom, and showed Hannah how the bottom pulled away to hide a secret compartment. Inside sat a short, elaborately carved stick of dark, polished wood, which Grace hesitated for a moment before picking up. She moved to touch the stick against a bolt in the trunk's lid, and whispered something that Hannah didn't catch.

The trunk popped open.

She'd been expecting something mystical and amazing, but Hannah was disappointed to see that inside the trunk, there was nothing more than half a dozen leather-bound books, a small fabric sack and some tarnished metal and glass items.

Hannah pulled out one of the glass things, which looked something like a spinning top.

"Ah! This," said Grace, "is a sneakoscope. And these," she pulled out two golden wire rods, "are a probity probe and a secrecy sensor."

Hannah grabbed the topmost book. "Mrs Skower's Cleaning Charms For All Occasions?"

"Let me see," said Grace, and flipped to a page. Then, from her seat on the floor, she opened up a bottle of nail varnish, and tipped it up over the rug.

Hannah's eyes widened. "Mum!"

Grace held up the stick - her magic wand, Hannah realised - and said in the direction of the rug "Tergeo."

The stain seemed to lift itself out of the carpet and disappear, and the flattened pile fluffed itself back up.

"I thought that when I moved here that I'd still want to use magic to clean," Grace explained. "Turns out that I don't mind doing things the Muggle way most of the time."

"Muggle means not magic?" Hannah assumed. Her mother nodded.

The next book Hannah picked up was titled "The Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles," followed by "Electricity: A Muggle's Magic." The other books left in the trunk each had similar titles referencing Muggles or 'Non Wizarding Britain.' Hannah was slightly nonplussed.

"I thought you'd have - maybe some massive spell books or something. A cauldron. Maybe a cape."

Grace shook her head. "I left as much as I could behind when I left home."

"Why did you leave, Mum?" Hannah picked up the sneakoscope, which felt good and weighty in her hand.

Grace looked at it and said slowly, "my family."

"Were they awful to you?"

"Not to me," Grace said quietly. "Not particularly." She stood up and started dropping the books back inside the trunk. "You know what I think we need right now?" She asked brightly. "Some ice-cream. We can talk about this more in the morning. How do you feel about taking a trip into town with me tomorrow? For one thing, we've got to send your reply by owl post. So - chocolate or vanilla?"

The next morning, Hannah woke up and dressed quickly before heading to the kitchen. A day out with her mum - her mum, the witch, she thought excitedly. Where on earth would they go to find a place with a post owl?

Grace Abbott was also ready to go, and it seemed as if she'd chosen her outfit with particular care. Gone was the business shirt, pencil skirt and court shoes - instead, Hannah's mother wore a long, flowing green skirt with golden embroidery and a slightly ratty purple drapey cardigan that Hannah remembered borrowing for dress-ups when she was little. She looked every inch a witch - aside, perhaps, from the pointed hat. Did real witches even wear those?

"Have some cereal," Grace said, all traces of the soft voice from last night gone. "And you'll need to write a reply to Professor McGonagall confirming your receipt of her letter."

She was carrying the small fabric sack, which turned out to have some heavy coins inside, as well as a larger bag that Hannah thought looked long enough to hold her magic wand.

Hannah bolted down her cornflakes and grabbed a pen and notepaper to write her letter.

Dear Professor McGonagall,  
Thank you for your letter informing me of my acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am excited to begin term on September 1.  
Looking forward to meeting you,  
Sincerely,  
Hannah Abbott.

Once she'd folded it and taped the paper closed, then added "Professor McGonagall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," on the front, it looked somewhat small and shabby compared to the brilliantly presented Hogwarts stationery. Hannah felt a little bit silly - she hoped this wasn't an indication of how she would stand up to the rest of the people at the school. Surely they'd all grown up knowing that they were headed for Hogwarts, with magic parents.

"Mum," Hannah said, as something occurred to her, "my dad wasn't magic too, was he?"

"Your father was very assuredly a Muggle," Grace said in clipped tones. "Ready to go?"

Hannah stuffed the note into her backpack. "Your parents were non-Muggles as well?"

Grace nodded, her lips in a firm line. "My parents were - are - a witch and a wizard, and their parents too, as far back as you can go. I have three brothers. Your uncles." She raised her eyes to meet Hannah's at last. "I suppose you even have first cousins now."

Of all the information she'd learned in the past day, this was the one that Hannah reacted to the most, although she wasn't sure if it was a good or bad feeling. She didn't say anything for a little while as she and her mother headed towards the train station.

"So everyone else going to Hogwarts knows they are… a witch or wizard?" Hannah managed at last.

Grace smiled slightly. "Not when I was there. There were lots of kids who had no magic in their family at all - they were the first, we called them Muggle-borns. And there were plenty like, well… like you, with one magic and one Muggle parent. But having a magical parent doesn't necessarily mean that you'll be able to perform magic. That's why I thought…" she trailed off, and Hannah frowned.

"You hoped that I wouldn't be magic, didn't you?"

Grace sighed. "Hannah, there was a reason I moved away. Now you'll have to stop with the questions for a moment. We can't let any Muggles overhear - we'll be breaking the secrecy statute."

They travelled into town in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Hannah and her mother left the tube at a station Hannah had never been to before, and they climbed a broken-down escalator that led to a bustling road lined with shops. Hannah was very excited - what sort of a place would have a post owl for them to use? Would she perhaps meet her first real-life witch or wizard?

After a little while, Grace stopped by a record store. Was this it? Hannah followed her mother's eyes and was surprised to notice a small, dingy-looking pub that she'd almost wandered right past without seeing. Hannah's heart started beating very fast. She could almost sense something from the little building as she looked at it - a sort of vibe that was now so strong she could almost smell it - something like welding, and old books, and a swampy pond, all mixed together. The sign on the pub read "The Leaky Cauldron" in old, faded script. It looked a thousand years older than the brightly lit fronts of the shops surrounding it.

"Is this it? Mum?" Hannah tried to grab her mother's hand, but it was clenched into a fist.

Grace let out a long, slow breath that she must have been holding for some time.

"This is it," she said simply, and pushed open the door.

Hannah's eyes took a second to adjust to the darkness inside. The pub was far from full, but it was still very early in the day.

"Morning, ladies," came a voice from behind the bar, and Grace replied with her own "Good morning."

"We're just doing some shopping," she added, in a shy voice Hannah had never heard her use before.

"Know your way through then?" The wrinkled old bartender leaned casually against the bar, and Hannah noticed with a jump that the glass beside him was polishing itself with a dishrag.

"I wouldn't mind a refresher," Grace said in that meek voice, "it's been a little while since I came through this way."

The bartender nodded and gave a sharp whistle, and a younger man - only very slightly younger, based on his stoop and grey hairs - shuffled over. The man was dressed in a long coat that stopped just above his ankles. He twinkled at Hannah, who couldn't help glance around the room looking for more traces of magic. "First Hogwarts shopping, eh?"

"We're just here to use the post owl-" Hannah started, but her mother interrupted.

"Yes, it is, thank you."

"Busy day for you," said the man conversationally, and led them to a small, walled courtyard. "Now, the trick to it-" he spoke to Hannah, and pulled his own wand from his sleeve, "is three times on this brick here. I like to remember it by the sort of 'S' mark in the brick, just above this loose bit of cement. Y'see?" He held out his wand to Hannah, handle end first, and Hannah was too thrilled to notice that her mother jumped slightly. She took the wand in her hand.

"Tap three times?"

The wizard nodded and pointed again to the correct brick.

"And what will happen?" Hannah asked.

The wizard grinned, and tried to share a moment with Grace, who smiled back with a set jaw.

"Just you wait and see," he said.

Hannah took a deep breath and tapped. One - two - three. She handed the wand back to the wizard with a thank you, and then the bricks in the wall shifted - an archway appeared, literally from nowhere - and suddenly there was an entire street in front of them, filled with people and noises and colours and smells.

Hannah gaped.

"Welcome," said the wizard, "to Diagon Alley." And he made a little bow, then left them alone.  
Hannah turned to look at her mother, her eyes wide and smile stretching all the way across her cheeks.

Grace didn't look to share her enthusiasm. She gripped her bags tight, ducked her head, said "Let's go then," and hustled Hannah forwards through the archway.

Hannah didn't want to look away from the bustle of the cobblestoned street - the witches and wizards in all manner of strange outfit (some of them did wear pointed hats!), and even some kids like her, in jeans and runners. She was, however, very worried about her mother, who kept her face down once she'd determined the direction she wanted to go.

"This way," Grace said, "Post office first. And I want to get a newspaper."

A wizarding post office was, in some ways, not so different to the usual post office near their flat. There was the tinkling bell at the door, paper and string to purchase to wrap your parcels, and small oddments and gifts available in case you forgot to buy a little present to go with your birthday card. It was, Hannah had to admit, a lot dustier than a Muggle post office. The real difference though was the row of perches to the left, which was home to several different sized owls. Some preened their feathers, some gobbled from little trays of pellets, some blinked at Hannah, and others were sleeping. There was a hand-painted list below them showing the different rates for weights and destinations. Grace pointed Hannah towards the shopkeeper, who was looking bored and perusing a magazine that had moving pictures. Hannah moved quite close, and was almost so distracted by the pictures that she didn't notice the shopkeeper clearing her throat.

"Can I help you?" The woman asked.

"Oh, yes, thank you," said Hannah, in her politest voice. "I'd like to send this letter to Hogwarts, please."

Hannah pulled the now crumpled notepaper from her bag, and the witch raised her eyebrows ever so slightly. She plucked the note from Hannah's hand. "One sickle, two knuts."

"Sorry?"

"One sickle, two knuts."

Ah. Hannah turned back to her mother, who was holding out the small bag of coins. "That's a silver sickle," Grace said patiently. "Two knuts - those are the little bronze ones. And the gold ones are galleons."

Hannah presented the coins to the shopkeeper, and her mother added another five knuts and said "I'll have a Daily Prophet as well."

The woman shrugged, nodded, tucked the coins underneath her counter, and leant back over her magazine.

Grace pulled a newspaper from the stack on the counter and they headed back outside. "Well, that's one thing down. Robes now, I suppose." She showed Hannah the list of supplies that had been attached to the Hogwarts letter, and started looking down the street with a sort of squint.

"Mum," Hannah said, seriously. "Are you all right? You're not… you're not worried that your family will be here, are you?"

"They don't need to be here," Grace replied. "News travels fast around wizards."

"If you want," said Hannah, trying to feel very brave, "you could go back to regular London. I can do the shopping myself."

"Gracie?" A voice interrupted their conversation. "Is that Gracie Abbott?"

Hannah looked up to see a tall wizard with a ring of brown hair stopping just short of the edges of his pointed hat. Grace gave him a small smile - the most genuine one Hannah had seen all day. "Reggie."

"And you'll have to introduce me to this young lady."

"This is my daughter, Hannah. She's starting at Hogwarts this year."

Reggie removed his pointed hat for a small bow. The top of his head was shiny, and Hannah wondered how he kept his hat on. "Lovely to meet you."

Hannah couldn't help blushing.

"What are you doing with yourself these days, Gracie? It must be - well, I haven't seen you since we finished school."

Grace nodded. "I've been…" she started, then changed tack. "You know how it was at home…" at this,Reggie nodded seriously, "I moved to Muggle London. I work in the legal sector, settling refugees."

"Still looking out for others, aren't you," Reggie said gently. He spoke to Hannah now. "We always told her she should have been a Hufflepuff. Never quite fit in with the rest of those Slytherins."

"I'm at the ministry myself," Reggie continued. "Transportation. Just popping over to check out a bung fireplace connection at Quincey's."

"Well, it's been lovely to see you again," Grace said quickly. "You'll have to forgive us - lots to get done today."

"Oh, of course, of course," Reggie said, nodding. "You take care now, won't you Gracie? Hannah." He lifted his hat once more to Hannah, and continued on down Diagon Alley.

"Who-?" Hannah started to ask, and Grace touched her on the shoulder and led her a little way down the street.

"Reggie is one of the good ones. We were… well, we were friends at Hogwarts. We had Muggle Studies together."

"What's a Hufflepuff?"

Grace paused outside a shop - Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. She sighed. "They're houses at Hogwarts. There are four - each have their own sort of reputation. There's Ravenclaw, they're supposed to be the really smart ones. Gryffindor, they're," she hesitated, "they're brave. Reggie was in Hufflepuff - they're just plain good people. My house was Slytherin. They're a little bit more, mm, insular than the other houses, lots of old wizarding families. You'll get sorted into your house on the first day, and those are pretty much the friends you'll have the whole time at school."

"Do you get to choose which house you're in?" Hannah asked, as they headed into Madam Malkin's. She wasn't sure she really fit any of the categories.

Grace shook her head and headed towards a pair of witches in immaculate mauve robes.

"Good morning," she said smoothly. "My daughter needs to be fitted for Hogwarts robes, please. I'll just be in the hat section."

"Not a problem, dear," said the rounder of the two, and took Hannah by the arm. "Let me see. Second year, is it?"

"I'll be in first," Hannah said, as her mother hurried towards a winding staircase.

"Lovely," said the witch, and she guided Hannah to stand on a small stool at the back of the shop.

Hannah stood very still as her black robe was pinned to the correct length, and watched her reflection in the surrounding mirrors. She did look very grown up, she thought.

When Grace came down and paid, she also had with her a very wide-brimmed green witch's hat, which she sat on her head immediately. Hannah thought she looked splendid, but Grace ducked her head and used the brim to shade her face once they stepped outside. Hannah was becoming more and more worried. What sort of people were her mother's family, if the strong, clever Grace Abbott was afraid of being seen by them?

They completed their shopping in relative silence. Hannah was sorely tempted by Florean Fortescue's Ice-cream Parlour, but Grace said they'd eat once they got back to Muggle London.

In Flourish and Blotts bookshop, Hannah was assisted by a wizard in yellow to gather all of her Hogwarts books, while Grace beelined to the 'Charms' section and flicked through another book, silently mouthing what must have been spell words.

Hannah's mother set two spells on Hannah's new trunk once they'd left the shop and she'd piled all of her books in. "There," Grace said, sounding somewhat pleased. "I've lightened the trunk and placed a slipping charm on this end, so you should be able to drag it yourself if you need. Most people just levitate theirs, but you won't be able to perform magic outside school."

"Oh," Hannah said, disappointed. "Really?"

Grace gave a little laugh. She seemed to be feeling a bit better now that her face was obscured. "Imagine the mess there'd be if all of the untrained wizards in the world were allowed to cast spells whenever they wanted. It would be like - like unlicensed drivers being allowed to just get in a car and do whatever they liked."

"I suppose that makes sense," Hannah said sadly. She had been looking forward to seeing if she could test out her new wand (Ten and a half inches, made of birch, with a core of actual unicorn hair) at home.

"Tell you what," said Grace, once the list had been exhausted except for the last line - Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad. "I think it would be a good idea to get an owl. We can send our own mail. What do you think?"

An owl. Hannah had never really had a pet in her life, except for the cat that used to live down the hall and sometimes snuck into their flat. She beamed as Grace led her into Eeylop's Owl Emporium, and together they selected a beautiful male barn owl with a heart-shaped face.

Grace took off her witch's hat once they exited through the Leaky Cauldron, although the pair of them still must have looked quite a pair - Grace in her swishing, robe-like outfit, carrying a caged owl, and Hannah in normal clothing, dragging a large trunk. They took the tube back home, and the owl was christened 'Rufus' on the way.


	4. Chapter 4

The next few weeks of the summer holidays dragged for Hannah. Her mother returned to work, leaving Hannah alone during the long, hot days, where she tried her best to read through her textbooks (although some, especially A History of Magic, were very dry, and some, such as Transfiguration for Beginners, seemed quite tricky, with lots of complicated diagrams). As many questions as they bought up, Hannah couldn't ask her mother about them - whenever Grace arrived home, she invariably said she was too tired or didn't want to talk about it. Grace did spend some of her time in the evenings flicking through a new copy of 'Modern Magical History, Volume III,' and on one occasion, after much pleading on Hannah's behalf, even used one of her cleaning charms so that Hannah didn't have to do the washing up.

There was one thing that Grace did have to explain, though, on the day before Hannah was due to take the Hogwarts Express (an owl arrived not long after their Diagon Alley trip, with a small silver-embossed ticket for the school train departing from Kings Cross platform nine and three-quarters).

"You won't be able to owl me directly," Grace told her. "I put a spell on myself when I left my parents, that means owls won't be able to find me like they can almost everyone else. When you do send mail, just address it to our house. Rufus will be able to find that. I'll send him along in a few days."

Hannah added that to her notebook of things to remember. She was beginning to feel very nervous about the trip, and even more nervous about the people she would meet at Hogwarts. Would they know her mother's family? Would anyone expect her to know any magic already, and would they think she was stupid since she didn't? What would it be like, living in a magical castle with hundreds of other people? Would she make any friends in her own house? It didn't seem like her mother had any of those.

The morning of September first came, and Hannah was busy unpacking and repacking her trunk for the third time, to ensure that she had everything she might need. Her Hogwarts robes were hanging on her bedroom door, ready to change into, and her wand was tucked neatly inside under the left lapel, in a specially designed pocket her mother had shown her that Madam Malkin sewed into every one of her robes.  
They arrived at King's Cross station at 10:40, and Hannah's mother (dressed in her normal Muggle clothes) walked her to platform 9.

"I won't come with you onto nine and three-quarters," Grace said, and then she smiled. "But I'm sure you can figure everything out for yourself once you're there. What you do-" she pointed to one of the archways past the ticket inspector's stand - "is run straight at that wall. It's not really a wall, just a sort of projected image. If you believe you can, you can step straight through."

Hannah hugged and kissed her mother goodbye, with a promise to write as soon as she could, and then, with a determined set of her jaw, pulled her charmed trunk behind her and through the brick wall between platforms nine and ten.

A huge scarlet steam engine was hissing importantly on the platform, and the first few of its old-fashioned but perfectly maintained carriages were already full of students, some in robes like Hannah and some still in Muggle clothes. People and owls were everywhere, and Hannah even saw several cats wandering around the station and furring people's legs.

With nobody else to say goodbye to, she pulled her trunk halfway along the train and dragged it onto a carriage with a clunk. She stood up straight, brushed the front of her robes, and knocked on the first compartment she came to.

"New blood," groaned a boy, once he'd opened the door.

"First years to the back," another joked from inside.

A girl leaned over to Hannah. "I think there is a compartment of first years two doors up," she said kindly. "I'm sure they'd have room for one more."

"Thank you," Hannah said, and followed the instructions.

"Hello?" Hannah asked, once she'd counted to the correct door. "Would I be able to sit here, please?"

Two boys and a girl sat inside, and they welcomed her in ("There's plenty of room, of course.") and helped her to manoeuvre her trunk into a corner.

Hannah sat beside the other girl and folded her arms in her lap.

"You're a first year as well?" The girl was shorter than her, with bushy brown hair and big teeth. She was also already dressed in her robes.

Just as Hannah started to nod in response, the girl continued. "It's lovely to meet you. I'm Hermione Granger. Are your parents magic at all? I've just asked Terry and Neville here, and they're both from magic families. My parents are both dentists, there were ever so puzzled when I received my letter. I just can't imagine growing up in a magical household, can you? It must be fascinating - there's so much to learn."

"My mum is magic," said Hannah, pleased to learn already that she wouldn't be the only one without any knowledge of the wizarding world. "She left after school though, she works at an immigration lawyer's. I didn't know anything about it until I got my letter, either."

"Sorry," said one of the boys. "I'm Terry. Terry Boot. And this is Neville Longbottom."

Neville gave a small wave. He looked just as worried as Hannah felt - his face was a little bit grey.

"Oh," said Hannah, and smiled at them. "My name is Hannah Abbott."

"My dad used to know an Abbott," said Terry, conversationally. "You aren't related to a Ferdinand, are you?"

"I'm not sure," Hannah said, honestly. "Mum doesn't keep in touch with her family. And I didn't know my dad. They never got married or anything."

She was distracted suddenly by a short croaking noise from under Neville's robes, which were in a pile on the seat beside him.

"Sorry about him," Neville said mournfully, and fumbled amongst the fabric to pull out a fat, dark green toad. "This is Trevor. My uncle got him for me last week, but I can't figure out how to make him stay in one place."

"Do you perhaps have a little cage?" Hermione asked, wrinkling her forehead.

Neville shook his head no, and wrapped Trevor up in his robes again.

"If I'd studied a little more advanced Transfiguration," said Hermione, "I imagine we could turn something into a box for him. You'd need to put in proper ventilation, of course…"

"My brother says that sort of big stuff doesn't get taught until third year or so," said Terry. "We'll be starting out small - turning matches into needles and the like. Not terribly useful, I suppose, but it'll all add up in the end."

"I could hold him for a little while, if you like," suggested Hannah. She didn't mind things that were a bit slimy - she could always clean up later - and she'd never touched a frog before.

"That's okay," said Neville. "But thanks."

The steam engine that pulled the Hogwarts Express blew its whistle, and the four of them turned to the window to watch everyone on the platform waving the train goodbye as it started to move.

"Does anyone know," asked Hannah, realising suddenly, "where Hogwarts is at all?"

Terry opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione jumped in. "I read about it in Hogwarts: A History. The castle is unplottable, of course, which means it can't be marked on any maps, and Muggles if they see it don't even know what it is - all they see is a ruin. It's somewhere near the Scottish coastline, on a hill, so I imagine we'll be there after sunset, or perhaps faster given we're using magical transportation."

Hannah was slightly amused that she was learning far more about Hogwarts now from this girl, than she ever had from her mother, who'd actually gone there.

The four of them discussed what the Hogwarts subjects might entail, and what the castle would be like, until a smiling woman clattered up to their compartment doors with a trolley laden with food.

"Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Terry stood up. "My treat, everyone," he said grandly, and purchased each of them a pumpkin pasty, a cauldron cake and a great handful of chocolate frogs, which turned out to be a chocolate that looked more a frog than Hannah really liked - particularly since the sweets were enchanted to jump from their packets. Alongside the frogs in their packet were what appeared to be collectible cards, with witches and wizards on them, and the same sort of moving pictures that Hannah had seen in Diagon Alley.

Trevor had emerged from the pile of robes and was perched on top of them, and seemed quite confused by the other amphibians in the compartment. After the third time one leapt too close to him, he startled, and with one great jump hopped straight out of the still slightly open compartment door.

"Trevor!" Neville called. He clambered to his feet, but stumbled slightly on the edge of his trunk. He hung his head out of the door, but it seemed like it was already too late. "I can't see him anywhere," he reported sadly.

"You'll have to go out and look for him, Neville," Terry said, and bit into a fresh chocolate frog. Hermione and Hannah shrugged helplessly.

Neville returned to the compartment five minutes later. "This is the second time I've lost him today," he moaned. "Great Uncle Algie won't be happy."

"Oh, come on Neville," said Hermione. "I'll come and help. He can't have gone far." She stepped out of the compartment, and shut the door quite firmly once Neville had joined her in the corridor.

Hannah and Terry sat in comfortable silence as they finished their lunch, watching the countryside pass by. Hannah pulled out one of her books - the Transfiguration one she'd found so tricky - and interrupted Terry's reverie every now and again to ask if he knew the explanation to something.

After a little while, the sun started to fade, and not long after that, Hermione and Neville arrived back in the compartment, Trevor held firmly in Neville's two hands.

"He'd hidden in the food trolley," Hermione said. "Now he looks good and full, I don't think he'll be moving too far for a while. I hope nothing he ate was poisonous to him, Neville."

"I don't know," Neville said, sounding hopeless.

"I'm sure it will be okay," Hannah said, trying to cheer him up. "I bet Trevor had a lovely time."

Hermione nodded at Neville's robes. "We should be arriving at Hogwarts shortly," she said. "You'd better put those on. Imagine losing house points before you even got sorted! I've heard some of the teachers can be quite strict."

Neville let Hannah hold Trevor while he got dressed.

"Actually," said Hermione. "I'm just going to go up the front and ask the conductor when we're due to arrive. It can't be long now." She left the compartment again, and Neville seemed to let out a long sigh.

"What's the matter?"Hannah asked, as she handed Trevor back to Neville. The toad was squirmier than she'd expected.

"Oh, nothing," Neville said after a little while.

"I expect we're all a little bit anxious," Terry said sagely. "It is a rather big day for everyone. I'll tell you what," he said, peering out of the window, "It looks like we might be drawing near."

Hannah and Neville shuffled closer to the window, trying to see out, but all that was visible was a darkening purple sky silhouetting trees and hills. Hermione arrived back into the compartment and shut the door with a huff.

"Really, the nerve of some people. I can't believe-"

She was cut off as a loud, disembodied voice floated through the train. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The four of them exchanged a look in the brief silence that followed this exchange, before Hannah and Hermione both jumped to their feet. Hannah checked all of her pockets to be sure she had her wand and her new collection of chocolate frog cards, then triple-checked the latch on her trunk. Her heart was beating very fast.

"Right," said Terry, "off we go then," and Hannah couldn't help but let out a little giggle. Hermione frowned at her and unlatched the compartment door. The corridor was already filling with students in their black robes and cloaks, and behind her, Hannah heard Neville say "Ow!" and then almost immediately, "Trevor!", but then the crowd surged as the train pulled to a halt and she lost sight of him as he tried to crouch down.

For better or worse, Hannah Abbott had arrived at Hogwarts.


End file.
